Thursday, March 1, 2012

How my ass can keep your clothes hole free.....and drinking with the nanny

Apparently this is not my week, and it all started on
Friday.

I blame my husband.

It all started so innocently, I got home a little early and
was visiting with my girls and the nanny.
For the most part, I have tried to kind of keep my distance from our new
nanny, and for those of you who know me this is a good thing. I tend to get involved and it has NEVER
turned out well. I become very open and
sharey, and want to be their “friends”, which never works out when you are
paying someone to watch your kids. The
next thing you know, you are schlepping the kiddies around while your nanny
gets a mani/pedi on your dime because “she” has had a rough day. Or they start to dictate what they will
and/or wont due now because we are BFF’s.

So Nanny and I have been together for almost a year and I
have done my best to “maintain” a good and positive working relationship. That is…..until Friday.

So, I invite Nanny to have a glass of wine with me until
Hubby gets home. When hubby arrives, he’s
like, hey let’s order pizza and I will pour you girls another glass of
wine. Which is all fine and dandy, until
I can’t find the bottom on my glass.
You see, hubby has been banned by my mother from keeping her glass full,
and now……I know why.

I used to think
that this was funny when he did it to my mom….like the time that she told all
of us that we don’t know what “true” partying was, because BIOTCHES, She
partied like a rock star before their were rock stars”. Or the time that our friends who were sitting
at the campfire were afraid to come into the cabin because she was calling us
all bitches (we were kicking her ass in the game "sequence") but they didn’t know
that. Or the time that the dogs farted
in the cabin (OMG, I had to crawl on the floor of the cabin to get to the door
because it was so bad) and then when my brother finally opened the cabin door
so that we could breathe sweet, sweet pure oxygen, my dad blamed the stink on
my mom. I don’t think that I have ever
seen my mom jump up and down threatening my dad like a little kid to “TELL THEM
THE TRUTH JIM, YOU KNOW IT WASN’T ME, YOU KNOW IT WASN’T ME…TEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTHEM”. If I wasn’t already on the floor, I would be
there because I was laughing so hard.
You know, those laughs, where you think you are going to die because you
cannot catch a breath. I was like….THIS
CLOSE…to passing out from laughter.

Now, it’s not fucking funny.
That sneak, he poured me the never ending glass AND he poured the nanny
the never ending glass. Then he
suggested that we go out…..with the Nanny’s mom to the wine bar. This was all kind of levels of wrong. So here I am with my drunk ass self, my
drunk ass nanny and her mom chaperoning us to the wine bar, where I proceed to
cry, tell my nanny that I love her, tell her mom that she birfed a wonderful nanny and sing Sweet Caroline to
everyone in the bar. Not my finest moment
hubsters….not my finest moment. At least I wasn't alone....nanny's car stayed at our house until Sunday evening.

And to top it off, when hubby is trying to tuck me in bed, I
wake up at of my stupor and tell him,

“I kissed your friend”

WHAT
THE FUCK??? I HAVE NEVER, EVER, EVER,
EVER, EVER (except for Dave) KISSED HIS FRIENDS. (Dave is hubby’s best friend and I have
kissed him on the cheek and once on the mouth, all in front of hubby. The mouth kiss was very awkward, because I
was kissing hubby goodbye before they went golfing and then turned and gave a
peck to Dave right on the lippers. We
both were like…EWWW)

And so you ask, Jana, how does your hubby feel about this??? He is giddy…..and has done nothing short of
tormenting me UNMERCIFULLY for this entire week. I swear to the lord high above, if he changes
the lyrics to that Katy Perry song again, I won’t be responsible for my
actions.

To pile onto the madness…….I ate brussel spouts and had the
worst gas, so I am chatting with my friend and tell her that my gas smells like
mothballs ………………I think I am now a trending topic on twitter with my sweater
saving ass. Fuck you lady….fuck you! That Fucking Bitch Blogged about it.....and FACEBOOKED it

And to cap it all off, I ate something that I am allergic
too, and now my lip has sputnik on it….and my supportive husband, he is now
calling the lip sputnik “the gift from his friend”.